


Just One Day

by nothingisreal



Series: It's Just Fun [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, GP2 Series RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-18 15:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingisreal/pseuds/nothingisreal
Summary: It was an accident. It was the adrenaline paired with all the alcohol. It was the excitement that comes from being on the podium taking over common sense. It was what Charles would be telling himself until his very death bed.





	Just One Day

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language. No beta.

It was an accident. It was the adrenaline paired with all the alcohol. It was the excitement that comes from being on the podium taking over common sense. It was what Charles would be telling himself until his very death bed. He had never imagined something like this would happen. And with whom!

Charles glanced to his left and promptly turned his head the other way with a sharp gasp. It was as if he had expected the other person to have disappeared, like a phantom produced by his hungover brain as a payback for all the alcohol he had consumed the night before. But no such luck, he was still there, sound asleep with his back facing Charles and the blanket barely covering anything at all. Charles was torn between wanting to readjust it to hide the bare skin and wanting to pretend it wasn’t there in the first place. Charles’s stomach seemed to be somewhere near his throat and he forced himself to take deep, measured breaths to stop himself from puking. It couldn’t be happening!

He would have left a long time ago, as soon as he realised where he was, but he wasn’t sure he could get up without being sick. Or get up - full stop. So instead he tried to move as little as possible, to shut off his brain, not think about it, not think about anything at all, as he closed his eyes. He was hoping that when he woke up again, either of the two would happen: he would be alone or at least he would feel well enough to leave before anybody could notice he was there in the first place.

It had been a great weekend. Which wasn’t surprising, considering he’d won the championship. And in his rookie year too! He had every right to be pretty fucking pleased with himself. He remembered Antonio grinning at him, laughing as they played the wrong anthem and then they allowed themselves some champagne, not too much, there was the sprint race to think about. After the sprint race, however, nothing was stopping them from celebrating.

And it wasn’t just Prema. Many of the guys loved a good party, even if it meant they were basically celebrating being beaten. So there were lots of people and even more alcohol. The next race was ages away and yes, Charles had F1 to think about but it wasn’t until the end of the week. He’d won the championship, he could allow himself to let loose a bit. Or a lot.

He remembered Artem managing to convince him to take shots with him, even though Charles _hated_ vodka, as Antonio argued with Luca in Italian (or maybe they were just talking?) and, to be honest, not much after that...

 

***

 

“Merde…” Charles groaned. “Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?” His words were muffled by the pillow in which he hid his face as soon as he woke back up. Well, he hadn’t been asleep, not really, he had been hanging somewhere between consciousness and sleep for… well, it must have been an hour or so. There was no answer to his question but he quickly decided that he probably didn’t want one anyway.

He did remember some things, snippets of memories, incomplete and fuzzy. He remembered making out in the lift, feeling as if he couldn’t wait any longer, he remembered being coaxed to fuck into the wet heat, his fingers tangled in the soft, dark blond hair and his jeans pushed down _just enough_ because he really couldn’t wait any longer, neither of them could, he remembered a hand slipping into his pants, he remembered being pushed up against the door and kissed roughly, and a tattooed arm wrapped around him as they danced and shots of vodka until the dancing turned into grinding in the middle of the room full of people, and “God, Charles, you’re such a lightweight”, and his name repeated breathlessly, mixed with words he didn’t understand…

He groaned again and pulled the covers tighter around his body. He didn’t have the guts to look at the other side of the bed to check whether it was empty. And it seemed like his memory was slowly coming back which wasn't the best of news. He was fairly sure he’d be much happier without all the details of what had happened.

It was all Antonio’s fault anyway!

He was supposed to spend the evening with Charles but disappeared fairly early on to God knows where with Luca and some other guys. Early but still late enough that Charles was already more than tipsy - leaving him to his own devices was bound to end badly.

 _‘Here goes nothing…’_ Charles thought as he finally gathered up enough courage to turn onto his stomach and look to his right. To his relief it was blessedly empty. Awkwardness temporarily avoided!

He practically jumped out of the bed and quickly realised it wasn’t the smartest idea when the room spun around him wildly. He closed his eyes and counted from ten down in his head before opening them again. He located his boxers on the floor where they had been flung against the wall across from the bed. He bent down to pick them up when he heard a door open.

“Morning.”

Charles straightened up so quickly it made him dizzy again. His hands unconsciously flew down to cover his crotch. For a second he had to concentrate very hard on not staring at the droplet of water slowly making its way down the sculpted torso all the way to the towel which was slipping down.

“You okay?”

“I… you… we…” Charles stammered which made Artem raise his eyebrows and smile knowingly.

He took one of the fluffy hotel bathrobes from the shelf by the door and threw it at Charles. “ _Now_ he’s getting shy.” Charles almost managed to catch the robe with one hand but missed by a few millimeters and it fell to the floor. He groaned inwardly and considered the best way to pick it up without showing off what he certainly didn’t want Artem to see.

“You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed around me. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Artem smirked. “You didn’t seem to mind yesterday when your cock was down my throat.”

Charles widened his eyes at him, his mouth hanging open. “You can’t just… say... shit like this.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” Artem’s expression softened as he made his way over to were Charles stood, picking the bathrobe up along the way. Charles resisted the impulse to step back. “Why are you freaking out?” Artem asked softly as he handed Charles the robe which he took eagerly. He tried to put it on without exposing himself, failed and just gave up. Artem was right, he’d seen him naked before, those five seconds before Charles secured the belt around his waist wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Charles considered the question for a moment then shrugged. “Why aren’t you?”

To his surprise, Artem just laughed. “Why should I be?”

Charles opened his mouth to reply but Artem didn’t let him. “This conversation won’t get us very far.” He chuckled and put his hand on Charles’s shoulder, tentatively. “Wanna take a shower?” He laughed again at Charles’s terrified expression. “I meant alone.”

Charles exhaled loudly. “Oh.” There was some dried spunk on his stomach, which he was almost sure wasn’t his, and he reeked of alcohol and stale sweat and sex. Not to mention that his muscles were sore and he wasn’t fully awake yet. A shower sounded amazing. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You want some food? Coffee?”

Charles grimaced. Artem gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom.

 

***

 

**HOW DO I GET A GUY**

**CRAP**

**HOW DO I GET A GUY TO STOP FREAKING OUT?**

 

**And a very good evening to you too, Artem.**

 

**???**

 

**A blowjob usually works but that could be tricky over the phone. What are you freaking out about anyway?**

 

**I’m not he is**

**sex**

 

**Was it really that bad?**

 

**Evans, istg…**

 

**XD**

**Ok, ok. Calm down**

 

**I am fucking calm!!!!!**

 

**Evidently**

**Who’s the guy tho?**

**Markelov, answer me!**

 

**Okay, so maybe I had sex with Charles…**

 

**Charles? Charles who?**

**Oh no way in hell!!!**

**You fucked Leclerc?!**

 

 **1 MISSED CALL:** **Mitch :***

 

**OMG calm down!**

 

**I’m so fucking proud!**

 

**I regret knowing you**

 

**You love me**

**But you are so telling me all about this later**

 

**We’re NOT having phone sex, Mitch**

 

**I’m perfectly willing to get on the next plane**

 

**You little… fine, you win. I’ll call you later**

**Sooooo…?**

 

**I mean, if it was some random guy I’d tell you to buy him a cup of coffee and send him on his way**

**But you two are friends**

**Just do what I did that first time**

 

**I don’t think blowjob is the solution here**

 

**No, idiot. Before that! Just talk to him!**

 

**...I think I’d rather blow him…**

 

**XD XD XD**

**Coward**

**It’s okay. I love you anyway <3**

 

***

 

Charles reemerged half an hour later, no longer feeling like a zombie, to find Artem sitting on the bed in a pair of boxers, his back against the headboard. He put his phone down on the nightstand and smiled at Charles. “Feeling better?”

Charles hummed and bit his lip, unsure of what the protocol for _‘the morning after you’ve accidentally had sex with that one guy you’re racing against’_ was. Artem seemed to notice his discomfort (seriously, Charles was convinced the guy had some sixth sense) and he patted the sheets next to him invitingly.

“Sit down. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Charles shook his head quickly. “God no!”

Artem just smiled. “Okay. But we should. You need to calm down.”

“I don’t-” Charles started, his voice slightly higher than usual, and the mildly amused and very disbelieving look Artem sent his way was enough to shut him up. “Fine.” He relented and tentatively sat on the very edge of the bed, as far from Artem as he could.

Artem considered him for a moment but apparently decided to let it slide.

“Water?” He handed Charles a bottle which he took eagerly, drinking half of it in one go.

Artem waited until he was finished before carrying on.

“What are you freaking out about?” Artem asked in a tone Charles thought was suitable for talking about the weather and not… _this_.

“You’re not serious.”

Artem raised an eyebrow. “You’re worse than I was.” He said in wonder. “How much do you remember anyway? You were pretty sloshed.”

Charles shrugged as the wave of memories he’d rather forget hit him again. “Too much.”

Artem snorted and patted Charles’s knee. Charles couldn’t help but crack a smile. Except…

“Wait, what do you mean I’m worse than you were?”

Artem shrugged but Charles didn’t miss the way his cheeks reddened. He wanted to ask about it but Artem’s next question threw him off.

“Are you angry with me?” Artem tried tentatively, biting his bottom lip and Charles shot him a look like he thought Artem had gone crazy.

“Why?”

“Well, you were drunk and maybe I-”

“Whoa! Stop right there!” Charles shook his head. “One - we were both drunk. And two - I’m not angry with you, I just don’t want to talk about it!”

“Why not?”

Charles ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I don’t know. I’m embarrassed?”

Artem nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll talk and you just listen. That’s the best deal you’re getting.”

Charles nodded with a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

Artem played with the edge of the blanket, as he considered what he wanted to say. “I’m really sorry. I know you said you’re not angry, but I feel a bit guilty. I knew you were drunk and I shouldn’t have taken advantage. But… I can’t read your mind you know? I don’t know what you want me to say unless you tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Artem, I…” Charles inhaled and just held the air in his lungs for several seconds before exhaling slowly.

Artem bit his lip. “Look, we can pretend this never happened. You can say you were drunk and didn’t know what you were doing. Just… I don’t want you to hate me. I mean, we’re not gonna pretend we suddenly don’t know each other, right? Because I really like you and not getting to spend time with you because of some stupid shit I did while I was drunk might just kill me.”

Charles realised his mouth was hanging open and he was gaping at Artem. He wanted to say something but all he managed were some garbled noises that even he didn’t know the meaning of. So instead, he scuttled up the bed and threw his arms around Artem.

Artem slowly let his arms encircle Charles waist. “What-?”

“You’re the sweetest guy in the whole world.”  Charles said, cutting him off. “I can’t hate you.”

“Thanks? I think…” Artem mumbled, still not fully recovered from the shock of suddenly having his arms full of Charles.

“I’m still freaking out. But I think we can talk now.”

He slowly untangled himself from Artem but instead of keeping his distance like before, he moved away just a little, so that he was sitting opposite Artem, mirroring his cross-legged position.

“I was upset.” Started Charles. “I thought you don’t care. That you just wanted sex and I was easy.”

“Hey… do you really think I’m the kind of guy, who’s into one night stands with people he doesn’t care about? I mean, I’m not proposing-”

“Good!”

“-but I do care about you a lot.” Artem tentatively wrapped his fingers around Charles’s wrist, happy when Charles not only didn’t shrug him off but even relaxed into the touch.

“And I was - _am_ \- scared because I don’t do…” he made a vague gesture between himself and Artem, “...this.”

“Neither do I.” Reminded him Artem.

“I know now. But I thought…” He broke off with a shrug and an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

Artem ran his thumb over the back of Charles’s hand, considering how he should phrase his next question. “What do you wanna do about this?” He asked, determinedly looking at their joined hands instead of at Charles.

Charles shrugged. “Can we agree it was the excitement? Just… celebrating the win?”

“So we forget all about it?” Artem asked, a strange pang in his chest as his fingers unconsciously wrapped tighter around Charles’s hand.

Charles shook his head. “No. But we’re not telling the whole world.”

“I can go with that.” Artem smiled, his eyes meeting Charles’s.

They sat in silence, Charles watching Artem’s fingers on his and Artem watching Charles. He had the impression that neither one of them wanted to say goodbye yet. “You know… you say we were celebrating the win...” Charles hummed, only half-listening, his attention focused on Artem caressing his palm. “But it’s still today.”

Charles sent him a puzzled look and Artem tried to think of a way to explain what he meant. “The party started yesterday, yeah?” Charles nodded with an expression that said ‘well, duh!’. “But I bet it didn’t end until the morning. _Today_.” He saw the realisation dawn in Charles’s eyes and his lips curling up in a small smile.

“Sooo… if we… _celebrate_ now,” he looked Artem up and down pointedly, “then it won’t count, right?”

Artem pulled on Charles’s hand until Charles crawled into his lap. “This will be weird.”

Artem shook his head. “This will be awesome.” He corrected. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and Charles’s own lips parted eagerly. “Fuck.” Artem pulled him forward and then they were kissing and it was so much better sober.

Charles made a soft sound when Artem slid the bathrobe off him, impatient to have Charles naked on top of him. Their chests pressed together and it already felt like too much. Charles didn’t have to know that but Artem had been dreaming about this for ages. He kind of got the taste of it (no pun intended) the previous night but it was completely different when there was no alcohol in his bloodstream to mute the sensations.

“What do you want?” He panted against Charles’s neck. His hands were on Charles’s arse, pushing him forward, rocking their hips together.

“Oh…” Charles said in wonder as his cock brushed against the now-moist fabric of Artem’s boxers. It felt so good and the thought that it was him who made Artem hard was going straight to his head, the way all the vodka did the day before.

“Can I…?” He reluctantly moved back, so that he could tug Artem’s underwear down his legs. He settled back down on Artem’s thighs, their cocks brushing together again, this time with no fabric separating them. “Oh…”

Artem chuckled breathlessly at Charles’s surprised expression. “Like this?” He put his hands on Charles's arse, guided Charles's hips down against his own again and they both gasped at the feeling.

Charles nodded enthusiastically, grinned at Artem, ground their hips together and Artem could think of so many things he wanted to do to Charles before the day ended…

 

***

 

“I need a shower.” Charles grimaced several hours later. And yes, Artem could see why he’d say that. He looked like he’d been rolling around in bed all day, which was actually true but Artem suspected it didn’t make the dried cum on various parts of his body feel any better. “Join me?” Charles asked from the doorway and Artem forced himself to look up from his bare arse.

“In a second.”

Charles disappeared inside the bathroom, the door still wide open. There was the sound of running water and Charles singing something very off-key. Artem chuckled, he hadn’t realised how fond of Charles he really was. He rolled onto his side and reached for his phone on the bedside table to check what time it was. He was greeted by six unread messages.

 

**I’m still waiting for that call, you know?**

 

**I’m assuming that Charles is still there**

 

**Artem, what the fuck are you doing???**

 

**Are you okay?**

 

**He hasn’t murdered you and disposed of the body, right?**

 

**If you don’t answer me in the next hour, I’m coming over.**

 

**Oh? That a promise? You know the more, the merrier ;)**

 

**For fuck’s sake, Markelov. You’re the absolute worst. I don’t know why I put up with you.**

 

**I’ll call you later, promise. But now there’s a very wet Charles waiting for me, and I think I could convince him to fuck me, so if you’ll excuse me…**

 

**WHAT?!**

**We are so talking about this later!**

**Lucky bastard : <**


End file.
